Teena Nagy

Let It Die

We're both
rushing, running around getting ready, both for different reasons.
You're packing your shit, and I'm preparing myself for a bad day at
work.

The place is a fucking mess, I don't know how we can live this way.

The
bed's unmade, dirty clothes and towels lay on the floor, empty cans and
plastic cups are tipped over on the night table and the floor, loose
change, open wrappers, beer bottles and receipts rest on the dresser. All
sorts of clothes are just hanging out of the drawers. The kitchen table
is covered in paperwork we've both neglected, the sink's flooded with
dishes that have been collecting over the passed few days, the garbage
can is over-flowing causing a slight stench. And there is absolutely no
time to clean any of this crap up, we've been too preoccupied with our
own business.

You're leaving today, yet again. I never know where you go, I've
learned to stop asking due to receiving the same answers, "Don't worry,
baby, it's just business. I'll be back before you know it." Two weeks,
three weeks later you return. "Back before you know it." Hah! Bullshit!
As usual, I'm left to care for everything during your little
extravaganzas.

Today's a horribly depressing day. Today's the day I say Goodbye to
you. I've dreaded this day for a long time, always wondering when it's
going to come. Now, I know. How you ask? I'll fast forward a bit.

We're both at the airport waiting for you to board your flight.
Obviously the waterworks turn on. I don't cry anymore because you're
leaving, I think I cry because I don't think you're ever going to come
back, that you'll leave me, but you always come back. Today is
different, you're not coming back, atleast not to me. I didn't come
well prepared, atleast not as prepared as I should have come. I've been
expecting it for quite some time, don't know why I kept holding on for
so long.

The airport's a riot, just like it should be. Loved ones saying their
Goodbyes to each other, children running around chasing one another,
many consuming as much alcohol as they can because of their fear of
flying..or dying, whichever. We're amongst those people, except I'm
saying Goodbye without expecting you to return. Did I mention the
typical airport scenario is either a happy or a sad one; nothing
inbetween? You're always upset when someone's leaving and you're always
pleased when they return.

We decided to go into a little secluded area, well, as secluded as it
can get, we are talking about an airport here. You're holding me in
your arms, telling me the same thing I've been hearing for a while,
this time I chose not to pay full attention to you. I'm soaking in as
much as I possibly can about you; the way you feel, smell, taste, sound
like when you speak, when you cry and laugh, the way you look; every
detail I can memorize, I'm soaking in.

We're just sitting there in complete silence, counting down the
minutes till you leave. You're running your fingers through my hair,
kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, wiping my tears away. You're
hugging me tightly, and you look me in the eyes and whisper,
saying,"I'll see you soon." I just kiss you trying to bring up the
words, "I know...it's just another trip." But you have an idea that I
know that this is the last time I'll ever see you again. You've been
trying to distance yourself for a short while now, acting all detached
in a subtle manner, you weren't subtle enough, I can tell you that
much. You love me, I know, and that'll never change. I may never see
you again, but you'll never be able to deny the fact that you love me.

It's a shame, I've grown a custom to you; I'll survive.

So you got up and held out your hand to me, I took it and you pulled me
up. We walked up to the exit where you'll officially leave me to board
your flight. You stopped to hug me, and kissed the bit of tears that
were at rest on my cheeks and then you pecked me on the lips. I can't
handle looking at you so I look towards the ground. "I love you, baby."
You say, lifting my chin up to face you. "Take care of yourself."

And you walked away.

Now, let me tell you something, "Take care of yourself," is a subtle
indication that I'll never see you again. Never once have you spoken
those words to me when parting for a little trip. "Take care of
yourself," is something you say to an acquaintance, someone you see
occasionally, not to a friend and especially not to a lover.

I can't help but stand there watching you disappear into the
distance."Fuck you, too!" I mumbled to myself. Shit! I didn't mean
that, whatever, I'm upset.

Once again I'm sobbing, but it's fine. I'm alone and there's no one worth the comfort but you.

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Teena Nagy.Published on e-Stories.org on 08.05.2008.